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“Well? Aren’t you going to run?”
Jan Maas crosses his arms, remains where he is, and looks at the shadowy hooded figure holding the knife.
“No," he says. "That would be a stupid thing to do. These woods are very dark. I would only trip and fall.”
The knife man comes closer. He looks put out by Jan’s response.
“Well. Yes? That’s the point? You run, I chase you, you trip and fall and break an ankle. That’s when I catch you and kill you. It’s not as fun without the chase.”
“I don’t care whether or not it is fun for you. I am not going to run and you are not going to kill me.”
Now the knife man just looks confused and he holds his knife up higher. Perhaps he thinks Jan cannot see it. “But… You’re unarmed? And I’ve got a knife?”
Jan Maas smiles. “Okay, Murderer. Maybe that has worked for you in the past, but I am a professional athlete. I am much taller than you. I am probably stronger than you and faster too. Alright, you may get one scratch in, but I think I could take the knife from you.”
At Jan’s words, the man looks him up and down slowly and nods once. “Yeah. Okay. Umm…have a good night?”
And then he turns and takes off through the woods at a sprint. It is not very long before Jan hears the sound of a crash, followed by loud swearing. Jan scoffs. What a fool.
~
Before Jan had relocated to London he had been warned about the bad functionality of England’s plumbing system, but this was a new occurrence. He steps back out of the shower, wraps a towel around his waist and watches with interest as black slime starts to ooze up and out of the drain, shifting and swirling into a grotesque shape as it does so.
How curious. He reaches for his phone, taps a few words into Google, finds an appropriate service, and hits the call symbol.
“Hello,” he says as a cheery female voice answers the phone. “Is this Pimlico Plumbers? How fast can you get one of your workers to my house in Mortlake today? My shower drain is badly clogged.”
He leaves the bathroom as he speaks, pulling the door closed behind him. Perhaps he could try and unblock it himself, but he lives in a society with many resources and he has a lot of money. He would much rather pay someone else to deal with this problem.
~
“Are you my mummy?”
Jan Maas looks down, and then down further still at the little girl standing on the other side of his front door. She is extremely pale, even for someone who has to suffer through England’s poor excuse for a summer, and her hair is long and lank and dark.
Whoever her mother is, she seems to be confused about what century they are living in. Jan Maas may not be an expert, but that dress is several hundred years out of date.
“No,” he says cheerfully. “I’m sorry, but I am not. Wait here and I’ll call social services.”
He closes the door in her face and goes back inside to make the call. His street is a very safe one with many young families rolling their prams and walking their dogs at this time of day. The girl will be perfectly fine on the doorstep, whereas the inside of his house is not at all childproof. Also, he doesn’t want to risk her getting on his Playstation and ruining his world in Minecraft.
~
“Hi, is this Jan Maas?”
Jan had not recognised the number that came up on his phone, but he had answered anyway. He likes to play with fraudulent callers, and the longer he can keep them on the line, the less time they have to take advantage of more gullible people.
“It is,” he replies, and settles back in his chair.
“Well, Mr Maas, I have some sad news. Your Great Uncle Levi passed away two weeks ago and the reading of his will was today.” Jan frowns. He does not recognise the name. This scheme is a new one.
“I see,” he says. “That is sad news. I suppose he owes the government a lot of money in taxes, or something, and so now I must pay?”
“Not at all!” the voice exclaims. “No, actually there is a silver lining. Your Great Uncle left you everything! His estate is worth around one million Euros, but I’m afraid there is a catch! In order to claim it you must spend the night — alone — in his mansion on the island of Hompelvoet. Only then can you…”
“No, thank you,” Jan Maas interrupts. There’s silence on the other end of the line for a few moments, before the caller speaks again.
“But… But it’s one million euros! And all you have to do is spend one night in a hau-… In a lovely house by yourself.”
“I am a professional footballer,” Jan Maas says. “I already have several million Euros, and it is the middle of the Premier League season. I do not really have time for sleepovers. Now if you will excuse me, I have another call coming in.”
This is not a lie. Colin’s name is flashing up on the screen. Probably he has locked himself out of his house again and needs Jan Maas to come around with his spare key.
~
“Live or die, make your choice.”
Jan screws his face up at the words of the masked man on the screen.
“Obviously I choose to live,” he says. On the other side of the room, his bound teammates struggle and make sounds of protest from behind their gags.
“Excellent,” the man says. “So which of your teammates will you shoot, to get out of here?”
“None of them,” Jan replies, rolling his eyes. This man is very stupid.
“But…” The man is clearly confused, even with the mask hiding his face. “You said you choose life. Now you have to kill someone.”
“I do not. I said I choose to live and I intend to do that. If you wish for me to die, you will have to come down here and execute me yourself. If not, I can simply wait you out.”
“Or I could leave you all here to starve to death?”
“You could try. But when you took our phones, you did not take my Apple Watch.” Jan holds up his wrist in demonstration. “Do you not know this device can make calls too? I have been on the phone to the police this whole time. They have been tracking our location and should arrive in… how long?”
“About 90 seconds,” the brisk voice says, out of the watch. “If you can continue to remain calm in the meantime, help is nearly there.”
The screen goes blank, and Jan Maas leans against the wall and smiles. Staying calm will not be a problem.